It's Not Stockholm, I Just Don't Want to Leave
by JaspersLilRed
Summary: AUish- Everyone thinks Draco was killed by Voldemort as a child. Draco just thinks everyone else is dead, so he stays at Malfoy Manor being raised by Death Eaters. Kept as a pet and subject to the manipulation of Voldemort, he barely knows up from down. Will anyone finally see him long enough to save him?
1. Death

**Still working on the title. It's a rough start, but here we go. If there are any questions or errors, please let me know. **

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The silence that exploded between the blasts was the worst. The anxiety of waiting for that next CRACK, to hear it followed by a scream or a crash, was where all of my fear was born. Even after the silence dragged out for long enough to signal safety, I couldn't let myself go. The fetal position is a funny thing. If I'm supposed to feel so safe, why does my back ache after so long, but I still can't lift my head from my own chest to inspect the damage?

"Draco, open your eyes." That voice. I'll always listen to _You_. "Wake up. You're dreaming." Can't you tell I'm trying? "Come now Draco. Wake up." I obey and lift my head from its safe haven.

Instead of seeing the debris and ruins as expected, I find myself lying safe in between familiar silk sheets. As my sense of gravity shifted due to my waking, the mattress too shifted as my bedmate sat up. A cold hand reached up to my hair as if to clear it from my eyes.

Usually a sign of comfort, right?

WRONG.

Nothing is that simple with the Dark Lord. I don't exactly like calling him a lord though. If I can get away with calling him by his name, I will. Few can. Just because I obey him does not mean I respect him.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" I don't try to sit up as well, for he's already propped himself up on his elbow so that his eyes have a perfect vintage point on mine. My question will now be ignored.

"What were you dreaming of?" He asks it as a question, but one you aren't given a choice whether or not to answer.

I've always been a coward.

No matter whom you ask, they'll tell you. I'll deny it even after my death, but between only you and I, I am. So I answer.

"The same as always. When I was younger and you murdered my family," I say, almost accusatory. My body is still trembling.

"Still hiding in the cabinet?" I can only nod in response. It's pathetic how that slight movement causes the tears to tip over the edge of my eyes like a glass just a drop too full. "And I'm sure you still refuse to watch?" I don't answer this time, so he draped his arm over my chest and uses one of his boney fingers to tip my face towards his.

"Yes." It barely comes out as a cough, but he nods.

"But you knew you were safe from the beginning, didn't you? I could never have brought you harm. You're much to valuable of a piece for that." His hand moved from my chin to wipe away a tear. "You were born, bred, specifically to serve me. The rest, they were worthless stepping stones, but not you. No, you are too valuable to leave unattended for even a moment."

"You leave me during the day," I point out, trying to get a hold of myself. Why am I upset that my captor would leave me? You'd think the time spent away from him would be a relief, but if Voldemort isn't there, there is nobody to protect me from everything else. Let's just say my master, to me, is the lesser of every other evil. In our line of work, there is an awful lot of evil.

"There is work to be done," he says.

"But if I could only come with you-"

"I'll not tolerate you under my feet all day. I already let your stay in my chambers with me at night, don't impose." And just like that, my proposal is shut down. I could tell him how Wormtail, my keeper during the day, terrifies and disgusts me, but it would be no use. My master has already rolled over onto his back to ignore me once more.

Once I'm sure he's asleep again, I maneuver my way to his side, lying as close to him as I can without waking him up. How does this monster signify safety? I don't have that answer, really any answers. He has them all and I know that as long as I do as he tells me, I'll be okay. I go back to sleep with his body heat radiating towards me.

"Up and at em', Pet!"

I groan and pull the heavy comforter over my head to block out the obnoxious sound of Wormtail's yowling. "Vold'mort." I mutter and reach a hand out to search for the body that should be in the empty space next to me.

"It's already late in the day, princess. Get up before I drag you to the Dark Lord right now and tell him how uncooperative you're being." It's funny how my keeper threatens me with my savior.

I sigh and sit up, bringing the warm blankets with me. Wormtail is hunched over in his normal posture at the foot of the king sized bed looking as he always does: like a dirty rat. "Put some damn clothes on for Pete's sake!"

"I got pants on you slimy git," I growled with half of my face still buried in the heavy duvet. I reached down to my thigh and sure enough, there were my pants, just where I left them.

"You can think about being more respectful to me while you're locked up today, how's that?" Before I register, he's is pulling my warmth away and has his fake hand wraps around my ankle. I hit the wooden floor with the loudest noise I never want to hear again. "Awake now?"

"No!" I scream and reach for my blanket again.

It took about twenty minutes, but a screaming match later, accompanied by a lousy kick on Wormtail's part and a half-assed slap on mine, I was finally somewhat awake. "Now put a shirt on. I have things to do!"

I followed my keeper downstairs, still occasionally stumbling or running into his back just to piss him off. "Where's Voldemort?"

"The Dark Lord," Wormtail growls in warning, "is taking care of business. Very political stuff, too complicated for pets to understand."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll ask Aunt Bellatrix. I didn't mean to insult you, Rat." Wormtail responded by slamming my hand in the cabinet door. Hard. I halfheartedly complained that he might've broken my fingers while he dug around for my mother's enchanted gauze.

It's actually labeled 'child-proof wrap.' The spell is there so that if you put it on a person, they can't take it off. It's so that little wizard babies don't chew it off I suppose.

I was silent as he rewrapped my wrists, covering the mutilated dark mark on my arm.

I think I should elaborate.

I've tried to kill myself five times now. Although, if anybody ever asked, I'd say four. I'd heard if you drank too much water, your stomach will explode and you drown from the inside. I don't know how they decided that because when I tried it I just ended up puking up some water and pissing a rain forest.

Seriously. I'm not kidding. Like four days straight, just peeing.

So yeah, if anyone ever did ask, which nobody has, I'd just say four and spare myself that embarrassing explanation.

The other four times, the times that count, were your usual suicide stories. I mean I was just going by what I've read or heard about. There was the time I tried to drown myself in the bathtub, but someone barged in and pulled me out. I don't even remember who it was. If I did, breakfast the next morning might've been awkward. After that was hanging myself in the closet, jumping from the second story roof (worst idea ever), and most recently, slitting my wrists with a knife I stole from the kitchen.

"Hurry up now, I'm a busy man," Wormtail mutters as he releases my hand. "You can't stay with me today, I have to go out."

I wasn't allowed a bedroom of my own, but I'm fairly sure I used to have a nursery here when I was a baby. Now I was only allowed to roam unsupervised in my master's chambers or in the dungeons.

"Everyone's getting ready for a raid and we won't be back until late."

It's disgusting that he thinks I care.

"Here's breakfast." He throws a dirty looking paper bag at my feet and locks the dungeon gate.

I decide to try taking a slower approach to death and spend most of my morning wondering how many weeks it takes to die of starvation.

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	2. Dehydration

**Em-ily: Thank you! And don't worry, we'll talk about why he tries to kill himself so often soon. I kind of explore why they treat Draco the way they do in this chapter. He's nothing more than a pet to them. Peter locking him in the dungeon is no different to them than locking a dog in a kennel. It's not nice, but the dog is going to be fine. **

**Enjoy.**

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"Draco, dear, how was your day?" Was the day already over? I remember this morning and trying to get out of bed. Was it really that long ago? "I hear you're being uncooperative again." It's not me that's being uncooperative, it's my arms. And legs. And brain. And holy hell my throat wants to die. "Draco, are you ignoring me or just being stubborn?"

This fiasco only _started_ with me being stubborn. Maybe it has gone on too long. I'm vaguely aware of Voldemort standing over me. How did he get there so fast? "How long have you been lying here?" It took a while, but I finally remembered where my throat was and how to use it, but my dry mouth made clear speech impossible.

"How long have you been gone?" I manage to choke out between painful breaths. Voldemort sighed and lifts me up by my bicep.

The world is spinning, I know, but I think for a second it quivers too.

I could hear my face hit the floor, but black out before I feel it.

When I wake up, I don't feel dead. And to think, I was so close this time too...

Wormtail's whiney, choppy screams come from the other side of the door. I sit up slowly, apprehensive of the nausea that had hit me before, gripping the white sheet up close to my bare chest. Wormtail was still shrieking. I may hate him, but I wouldn't wish this amount of time under the cruciatus curse on anybody.

"I'm beginning to think leaving him with muggles would have been safer than leaving him with you. At least Harry Potter is still alive." The door of Master's bedroom swings open wide and smashes against the wall. My face mimics the horror of Wormtail's peeking out from behind our Master's shoulder. He's furious.

"Draco! Stand up!" he orders. I struggle to untangle myself from the sheets. My heart is pounding so unevenly that my arms jerk and my legs don't work. "Oh for Merlin's sake!" Voldemort storms across the elaborate room and rips the sheet away. I feel like a cartoon character flung around in a circle then a big blue SPLAT as I bounce off the nightstand. "You understand what you are to me?"

Bed warmer? Occasional world domination plot listener? I have no clue what I am. It's a wonder I'm not a sexually confused, mindless zombie!

"Do you?" He's mad, but not yelling anymore. I can't look at him. I'm sitting on my legs and staring at the foot of the nightstand. A cold hand grips my jaw so that my nose is inches from his. I'm still looking at that leg. Is that a scratch?

"You're a pet Draco. A valuable pet I will admit, but not worth all of the trouble you're giving me that is for certain," Voldemort scolds. I didn't want to cause him trouble. I would never mean that.

The tears that start a constant leak out of my eyes are completely involuntary.

"Do you know what muggles do to their pets when they make a mess?" Voldemort asks casually, like he's just asked me to pass the sugar. I shake my head once. "They scrub its face in it."

I tear my eyes from that stupid little scratch on that stupid little nightstand and look at my Masters perturbed expression. He lets my jaw go and lifts up my wrist.

My unwrapped, tattooed wrist. I hadn't noticed before that the gauze was gone. Now I was going to have to look at it. "If you try something like this again, I would hate to have to ruin that darling face of yours." It doesn't sound like a threat, especially when he's gently stroking the few, long scars over the snake's neck.

"I don't mean to cause you trouble," I whimper. _Pathetic._

"Of course you don't. Why would you mean to? I'm the greatest thing to ever happen to you," he's smiling now. Together, we stand up. I'm gripping his robes and he's whipping the steady stream of tears from my cheeks. "Think Draco, I let you sleep with me in my chambers. Do you know where pets normally sleep?"

"Outside, tied to a tree." I answer, a sob interrupting twice. My Master lets one laugh-ish sound shake him.

"You've been reading my books again." Master motions me to lay back down and I suddenly feel tired again. "Draco, stop feeling sorry for yourself. You've got a good life here," he climbs into the bed and then adds "with me."

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	3. The Cage

A linnet in a gilded cage,-

A linnet on a bough,-

In frosty winter one might doubt

Which bird is luckier now.

But let the trees burst out in leaf,

And nests be on the bough,

Which linnet is the luckier bird,

Oh who could doubt it now?

-Christina Georgina Rossetti

Of course, my luck is such a character sometimes. The first day I'm outside in months and it's freezing cold and wet.

I'm plastered against the outer wall of my castle of a home, just under the edge of the roof so that droplets of water fall to the mud barely missing the tip of my nose. I consider turning around and climbing back through the hole I'd found (dug myself after much time with a spell and then blasted through with a ramming charm), but my curiosity stood like a reprimanding barrier.

_When are you going to get another chance like this? _

"Maybe I could ask Voldemort to take me outside…"

_Like taking a pet on a walk? Maybe we could wear a leash too._

"Fine," I grumble at it before pushing through the wet veil and into the rain. "I hope I don't end up regretting this," I whisper. Droplets of rain drip from my upper lip and I lick them off and smile. My whole body doesn't even seem to mind that I didn't dress for the occasion in my black slacks and tie. A coat might've been nice, I think after a while. "Definitely worth it," I say to the sky.

I'm not sure how long I'd been walking for, with the rain on rocks and trees for music, but my bare feet finally had had enough and cramped up against a round stone. I settled against a tree with roots as big as Master's bed and watched the nature I'd been deprived of for so long just be.

I can't tell you why I did it, maybe just because there was nobody there to tell me no, but I bent my head upwards and let out a scream as loud as I could into the air. Then, at the thought of a strange boy sitting in the rain screaming by himself, I started laughing. Thinking about it, I must've looked incredibly mental, but at the time, I just felt so… free.

"There you are, you little twit!"

It didn't last very long.

"Get up! I can't wait to see how Master punishes you for trying to run away-"

"I wasn't trying to run away. And I don't think you'll be telling MY Master anything." Wormtail, who'd been struggling on the rough terrain to reach me suddenly stopped and reached down to grab my shit front.

"What you talking 'bout? You threatening me?"

"You dragged me out here to get some fresh air. Of course I'd agree with you, I just didn't want to make master angry but you frightened me so badly that I did as I was told." Wormtail, for as slow as he is, was catching on pretty fast. His grip on my shirt tightened and he pulled me up to my feet.

"You wouldn't dare," he growled.

"I was just doing as he told me, Master! Please don't be too hard on him, I really did enjoy being outside!" I pleaded to our imaginary Voldemort, my acting skills pristine, obviously. "Oh, you just wait 'til my Master hears about this! Or maybe you can tell him yourself how you were supposed to be watching me but I got away. That way we can share a punishment. You're right, we should do that, let's go home-"

"Quiet! You'll do no such thing!" He took his hands back and paced on his stubby legs for a while, tugging at his hair. "You-you-you-you have to tell me how you got out and then I'll take you back inside and we won't tell anybody about any of this and it'll just go away and nobody's gettin' any sort of punishment!"

I feel bad for Wormtail, I really do. He's a grown man who's just as pathetic as I am. At least I have an excuse. And I'd never admit that to anyone else either.

"Tell me how you got outside!" My very dirty and very wet rat friend was demanding my attention again, but I was much more interested in the trees and what looked like a trail heading away from the house. He gripped my arm and pulled me backwards. "Tell me!"

"The back door," was my simple answer. Wormtail filled our hike back to the house with his unhappy grumbling at my 'rebellious antics.'

I hadn't noticed how light my heart had felt until it started getting heavier as we neared the house. Every step was a little pebble dropping down my throat and echoing back up making me sick. Instead of the clouds outside being all exciting and dangerous, they were looming and frightening. I hadn't noticed the scratches all over my bear feet until they were all I could dare look at.

So many cuts and scrapes. He'll know. He'll have to. He probably already knows.

"Ay! You in there, Boy?" Wormtail shoved his short shoulder into my arm. According to the floor underneath my dirty, cut up toes, we were back inside. "I said go with the house elf and getcha self cleaned up! You even listening?"

No, I'm NOT listening to you.

I don't want to get cleaned up! I want to fall over dead so that Voldemort won't be upset with me! I don't know how he'll react.

What if he takes me outside and ties me to a tree? That's what people normally do with their pets.

_I'm NOT A PET!_

"Young master," the house elf bombarded the line of vision between my eyes and toes. "Dobby finds that when he is frightened of something, moving away from it for a while does a great deal of good." A little hand experimentally touched mine. When I didn't pull away, he gently took two of my fingers (just about all he could hold I suppose) and tried moving me.

"Dobby can run the young master a bath. Dobby knows how to use the faucet so that the water is not too hot and not too-"

"Don't patronize me! I know how to run a damn faucet!" I backhanded the presumptuous little creature. As small as he was, his little body hit the floor and bounced. "I know how to clean myself! I'm not a wild animal or a disgusting rat person!" Wormtail was a part of this charade too, so I wouldn't spare him. I traded my fear for anger and didn't care who knew. "I don't need to be supervised by someone without even half the wit of the servants either!" The lights on the wall and chandelier were beginning to flicker. "And I should be able to take a damn walk outside for a few minutes without having a search party sent after me like a missing toddler!" The lights were blinking rapidly when I lowered my voice. "What's so damn wrong with me that I can't have anything at all I want? You asses won't even let me die. Just please, let me die…"

Wormtail didn't try and stop me from crying. Maybe he was scared, or maybe somewhere in his twisted mind, he understood.

Now, sitting in Voldemort's lavish bath surrounded by warm water and thinking about my fit, I'm ashamed of myself. Voldemort gives me everything I need. His words from several nights ago cross my mind. "You've got a good life here, with me."

I sigh and look over at the death eater assigned to watch me while Wormtail's gone. Ever since my drowning attempt, I've not been allowed to bath without supervision. It stopped being awkward faster than you'd think.

Fenrir Greyback was a very large and intimidating man so you can see how sparking up a conversation with him might be worrisome. Especially when I'm naked in a bath and he's whittling a shank with his teeth.

"Is it true you're a werewolf?" I never claimed to be subtle.

"Is it true you've tried to kill yourself fifty times?" Neither did Greyback. I huffed a bit at the exaggeration but decided to play his game.

"No. I've not tried to kill myself fifty times. You're turn."

"I am a werewolf. Why, interested in the lifestyle?"

"Ah, that answers my second question already. I'd heard you were a pedophile and then thought 'why would they leave a creepy were-pedo to watch a minor bathe?"

"To keep the puny human from drownin' himself again," Greyback growled through some facial expression I'm sure he thinks is a smile. I lowered myself into the tub so that my mouth and nose were underwater, but I could still watch the werewolf over the edge. "Call it whatever you like. If it's pedo to change em' early on and grow em' up strong, that's fine. You humans and your titles."

I thought about it for a while, but the only werewolf I knew was Greyback so when I thought of were-kids, I just pictured short little Greybacks running around. It was an entertaining albeit disturbing thought process.

"I don't blame you actually. For trying to drown yourself, and I see your wrists too. I can't say I blame you. I've never liked cages myself either." Greyback stood up and threw my towel on the table beside the bath. "Come on, get out. I've got things to do."

"Wait, I'm not in a cage!" I tried to argue but he was already gone.

_Yes you are! Let me out! Let me die or let me out!_

"I'm not in any cage. I could leave, but why should I? Voldemort is here. I'm safe here. There's nothing else and nobody who would want me."

_Just keep lying to me. You're lying to yourself and that's stupid because you know you are. _

"I'm here for a reason."

_Voldemort's play toy._

"It won't last forever. I'll leave someday."

_I've tried to die here five times already._

"Something is going to happen. Just wait it out. You're a pureblood, born, bred, specifically to serve Voldemort." I bury my face in my pruned hands and groan.

_His words, my mouth._

_A glorified lap dog. _


End file.
